


Miles to Go

by seekeronthepath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on a Poem, Gen, Introspection, Stopping By Woods of A Snowy Evening, possibly a bit depressed, tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stops in the woods after a battle. He's tired, but he can't rest yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miles to Go

_It was a dark and stormy night_ , Stiles thought to himself with a bitter smile. Except it wasn’t stormy. Snowing a bit, but not stormy. He supposed he should be grateful for that. A storm would be the cherry on this crap-sundae of a day.

He drove aimlessly, knowing only that he didn’t want to go home yet, to a house that was either empty and cold, or filled with the tension of unacknowledged lies. He couldn’t help but wonder how much longer it would be before his dad gave up on him altogether. Surely it wouldn’t be long.

Eventually, he found himself on a road he knew too well – it went right through the middle of the Hale property. Not that the Hales owned it anymore. The council had reclaimed it a while back, and Derek was living in a loft in town, now. There was no-one else left to notice he was here.

Halfway to the lake, he stopped, parking the Jeep with his hazard and headlights on, just in case. It had been witches, this time. A solstice ritual, with human sacrifice. Or, werewolf sacrifice – Isaac went missing, and Scott and Derek each assumed he was with the other, so they didn’t notice for hours. Stiles had figured it out, in the end, like always. But it had been close. Isaac was at Deaton’s now, getting patched up under Scott’s wary eye. The others had either gone home, or to Derek’s. And Stiles was sitting here, in the dark, alone.

He could hear the Jeep creaking as it cooled. He rolled down the window, letting the freezing air into the car. Outside, it was all but silent, the only sound the whistling of the wind. There weren’t any leaves left to rustle, and the snow was muffling the ground. Stiles could feel his face and fingers going numb with the cold. It was a distant feeling, and he didn’t really mind.

There was peace here, in the dark and the cold and the silence. A sort of emptiness that washed away all the terrors and frustrations of his life. But his dad was at home, waiting for him. And Derek was probably going to show up at some point to talk things over. He couldn’t rest yet.

He started up the Jeep again, listening to the grumble of the engine fill up the silence around him, and rolled up the window. “Come on, Betty,” he muttered. “Time to go home.”

\-----

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,_

_But I have promises to keep,_

_And miles to go before I sleep._

**Author's Note:**

> Initially, I actually thought this poem was a really good fit for Derek. But the beginning of the poem - "Whose woods these are I think I know" - made me look elsewhere.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


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